We Were All Crazy
by upletena
Summary: It's been almost seven years since Kenny has seen his old friends, his only friends, but when Kyle turns up at his door one day, will he decide to come back to South Park? Stenny & Kyman, and a really bad summary. Rated T for language and drug references.
1. Kenneth McCormick

[_Kenny_]

"_We are all crazy."_

Well that's what Kyle told Kenny after he showed up to his house, and Kenny didn't doubt it – Kyle was, after all, the most knowledgeable out of all four of them.

Sometimes Kenny would think back to the times from many years ago, when he was ten, back when he was shit poor and dying every few days. Life was absolutely shit, but it wasn't fucked up, not yet, not for him. However he insisted on making the worst life for himself, pushing everyone away and eventually leaving them – the only thing that got better was that Kenny escaped his parents and his room now had unbroken windows – so, needless to say, he was surprised when Kyle turned up to his doorstep that day, three months ago.

Kyle told Kenny that he was flicking through the old telephone book and he saw his name, mulling over visiting for a few days, but he eventually just decided to come and if Kenny stopped him entering then he would camp out the front until he came out.

Laughing, Kenny shuffled to the fridge and pulled out two beers – the only beverage that was present in the house, with the exception of a bottle of vodka when it could be afforded – and handed one to Kyle, sinking into the chair across from him. Any kind of alcohol was the best icebreaker - it lightened up the mood. Kenny had a feeling that Kyle wouldn't drink it – maybe a sip to be polite, but he wouldn't finish. Imagine his surprise when Kyle downed the bottle in a few gulps, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

Kenny raised an eyebrow but reached his hand out and toasted the air, taking a large swig.

"So why did you come?" Kenny's voice was hollow, foreign almost, making Kyle falter before he spoke again.

"It's been a long time, I wanted to catch up," he averted his eyes away from Kenny, looking instead at the peeling wallpaper, "and I know you do too, Kenny. No one wants to be so alone."

Kenny snorted, "Right… that must be why you just let me leave right? Why all of you just stood there when I left?"

"No, Ken. We were all going through our own problems then, well some of us," Kyle's head dropped down, "we were too focussed on ourselves to even process what was happening."

Kenny took another swig of the beer, but it had lost its appeal and he only did so to have something to do before he spoke. "Fuck Kyle, don't lie. I know that I pushed you away, I know that a part of you – a part of all of you – was glad to see me leave that day."

Kyle's silence answered any doubt that may have been present in Kenny's statement – not that there was any, he knew what he was doing back then. Now - he isn't too sure, he is just leading the life he has to, whether he wants to or not.

"Good thing I don't maintain grudges then," Kenny finished his beer, setting it down on the table and swiftly getting up. "Do you want another one?" he pointed towards the glass bottle on the table.

"Err, no – one was fine for me, thanks." There was relief in Kyle's eyes – not because of the offered beer, but because Kenny told him that he was okay with him, that they could be friends or at least, be civil acquaintances for now.

"So how is everyone?" Kenny slid into the same chair as before, cradling the new beer bottle.

"We are all crazy."

That earned a rolling of Kenny's eyes, "I never would have guessed Kyle, good observation."

"No, as in we are actually crazy, psychological problems and all."

"Oh." Kenny didn't know what else to say, so he covered it up by having a mouthful of beer, "wait, even Cartman? I know he was a fucking child and immature and all of that shit, but is there even anything psychological that explains what is wrong with that motherfucker?"

"Actually, yes," Kyle's eyes were sparkling as he continued, and the fact he must have pursued a career in psychology was blatant to Kenny, and he chuckled quietly glad that Kyle hadn't changed too much from the last time he had seen him.

"So," Kenny leaned forward, arms resting on his knees – still holding the trusty beer. "Wanna tell?"

"You haven't seen these guys in how many years and you want to know about all of them, their problems, and their issues?"

"You did bring up the subject, Kyle," _and I haven't stopped thinking about you guys since I turned my back, you were right, no one wants to be alone – and you guys were the only guys that I had_, Kenny added silently and automatically, he took another swig to shut the voice up.

"Why do you keep saying my name whenever you speak to me?" Kyle's tone wasn't accusing, just curious.

"Why? Do you like the way your name sounds when I say it?" Kenny batted his eyelashes, knowing it was a completely inappropriate time for a joke – especially this type – but he wanted to have fun, "I can scream it louder if you want, I'm sure the neighbours won't mind."

Kyle lightly slapped Kenny on the shoulder, "some things never change, eh Kenny?"

"I could say the same to you," he paused for a moment, picking at the lint balls that had collected on the chair, "I'm guessing you continued on with school and into university?"

"Huh?" Kyle had zoned out momentarily and it took him a few moments to process what Kenny had said, "Ye-Yeah, I did. I earned a scholarship to Denver University, but that was revoked, so now I go to South Park College, majoring in psychology."

"Congrats Kyle," Kenny slurred, proud of his friend's achievements but completely jealous that Kyle had done so much with his life, and he could barely hold onto a job, and the only one he could resulted in his own shame and depression. "No, I really mean it!" he asserted when he saw Kyle's look of disbelief, "it's just… I'm kind of jealous that you have done so much with your life."

"Why? What have you been doing with yours?" Kyle didn't believe that Kenny's life could be so horrible – he could afford a place away from home that had some of the necessities, he had windows and could afford food and alcohol, and he was away from his parents. He knew Kenny's life wasn't as grandiose as his own, but he was getting by, better than before at least.

"Holding onto a job for me is quite fucking hard; I never make it past the probationary period. The longest I have had a job was three weeks, and I don't even know why the fuck I got fired from that." Kenny could feel his mood dropping at the subject. He knew that soon enough he would have to sell himself to some horny cunt out by the border of the city just to pay for his rent, then several times more for the bills. He had received the call from his workplace just two days ago that he would have to come in for a 'talk.' Kenny knew what it was about, they thought he had stolen cigarettes, it wasn't a wrong assumption, but he would never admit it.

"Kenny… Kenny?" Kyle snapped his fingers in front of Kenny's face, bringing him back to the present, "dude, you okay?"

"Fine," Kenny toasted the air again and drank the remaining liquid in the bottle he was holding, sad that the lies had to begin already.

And that was the majority of Kyle's first visit; Kenny drank a few more beers despite Kyle's persistent nagging at him to stop. They talked about nothing, stupid things like the sport – how the Broncos sucked, Kenny mentioned NASCAR, but Kyle wasn't too into that.

Kyle continued coming over to Kenny's house for the next few months – unbeknownst to Cartman, and even Stan. That was the way that both of the boys wanted it, Kenny didn't want Stan to know, Stan was that one that he had hurt the most when he pushed everyone away, and Kyle was uneasy of letting Cartman to know because the way he would react was unpredictable.

Nothing too important was every exchanged by the two boys – Kenny kept his prostitution career in the dark where it would always be, and luckily Kyle never pried, nor said too much about his own life. However, Kenny had a goal – he wanted to know what was wrong with the other boys, Kyle included, he recognised the way that Kyle dodged his question, and he hoped to wear Kyle down eventually. Just as it was about to seem hopeless, Kyle broke.

He was slouched on the chair that Kenny usually took position in, and was downing his third beer of the evening. Kenny knew something must have happened during the time Kyle wasn't over at his house, because the amount he was drinking was uncharacteristic.

"I know I shouldn't say this - but Ken," Kyle hiccupped, "I know you still care about us as much as you did then, even if you pretended you didn't. We were the only ones you had, and that kind of friendship doesn't just disappear, does it Ken?"

Kyle always called Kenny Ken when he had drunk too much, but there was truth in his words, and Kenny nodded at the younger one, prompting him to continue.

"Stan – I don't know where to start with him. He was always so put together when we were younger, sometimes he needed some pushing and prodding and someone to be there for him – but he was always okay, you know?" Kenny nodded to Kyle, "I don't know what set him off, it was a few months after you left. His parents apparently started getting very protective, they would overreact at the smallest thing, Stan would have to report what he was doing every hour when he was out, and if he didn't then he was viewed as some juvenile or some shit. Eventually Stan just couldn't take it, he had repeatedly yelled at his parents to leave him alone, he was sixteen now after all – he had more freedom when he was ten. They never listened, so Stan ran away, he came to my house in a panic, telling me that he had to get away from here – it was crushing him, he didn't know how to be himself. If I didn't know better I would've thought he was tripping. I don't know where he went; no one does, well except for him. But he came back a few days later, his parents backed off a bit, and everything seemed to go back to normal, well as normal as it could be at that point in time. Then Stan started getting… weird. He would forget things and not know what he had done previously, there were times when he was with us, we were playing or having a sleepover, and by the next day, he wouldn't remember it at all. He would get confused about who he is, eventually we talked him into getting some help – it was messing with his ability to cope and do work.

Stan got diagnosed with dissociative amnesia, he's been taking probationary meds for a few years now, and he seems fine – almost no signs or symptoms, he recalls pretty much everything and doesn't have any episodes anymore, which I'm really thankful for."

Kenny was stunned into silence after Kyle had finished speaking. He wished that he hadn't have left, he wished that he was there for Stan, even though there wasn't much he could have done.

"I think he missed you Ken." Kyle interrupted Kenny's thoughts and the silence that had grown around them.

Kenny shook his head, denying the statement, his eyes glazing over with what Kyle recognised as regret. "The shit I did to him, there is no way he could forgive me for that, – I saw the hate in his eyes when I left."

"Yeah, he hated you for a while – I won't deny that, but he does miss you, I'm sure of it."

"He's better off without me," Before Kenny could continue, Kyle's cell buzzed and he flipped it open, answering the call.

"What fat ass?" Kyle spoke with decidedly less animosity to Cartman than what he would have held many years ago, and listened rather tranquilly.

"A movie? Sure," Kyle felt heat creeping into his cheeks, and tried to hide it, but realised he could just blame it on the beer he had been drinking, "yeah, fine. Bye dickwad."

Kenny raised an eyebrow as Kyle turned around, and Kyle just shrugged, "I've got to go Ken."

"I guess I'll have to hear about Cartman next time then. _Right Kyle_?_" _Kenny reinforced his last two words so Kyle knew that there was no way he was getting out of explaining Cartman's problems.

Kyle sighed, "There isn't much of a point keeping it from you now that you know about Stan, but I really have to go now."

"Oh, on your date with Ewic?" Kenny fluttered his eyes, and pouted as he used Cartman's name.

"No, there is just a movie that looks good that no one else wants to see," despite his excuse, Kyle punched Kenny playfully in the shoulder.

"Of course there is Kyle, of course," Kenny was sarcastic as he nursed his shoulder and walked to the door, opening it for Kyle. "Thanks, dude."

"For what?" Kyle was puzzled at the sudden thanking, he hadn't been thanked before, and he didn't know why he was being thanked.

"Just for coming, just for showing up that day. You were right."

Kyle didn't need to ask about exactly what he was right about, so he just smiled and patted Kenny on the back, "it's okay buddy."

Kenny struggled with the next question as Kyle turned to leave, "hey Kyle…" it was a whisper, and part of Kenny hoped that Kyle hadn't heard.

When Kyle turned his head around he saw Kenny's expression and cocked his head at it, "what is it Ken?"

"I know you have to go, but I have one last quick question." Kenny bit his lip, pausing for a few moments, "what – no. How is Butters?"

"Oh, Ken." Kyle looked at the floor; it was his time to bite his lip nervously, not knowing how to say what he had to say next, "did no one really tell you?" when he looked up his brow was furrowed and his lip trembled, he didn't want to be the one to break the news to Kenny, anyone but Kenny.

"What?" Kenny struggled to keep his voice monotonous, but the sharp increase of sound at the end of the word suggested he had guessed what was coming, "Kyle, tell me."

Kyle heard the desperate plea in Kenny's voice, and he knew that he couldn't stall it much longer. "Kenny, Butters – he, he died Ken, about four years ago."

Kyle placed a hand on the elders back, comforting him, Cartman didn't matter as much now, he had just broken completely heartbreaking news to Kenny, and he didn't want to leave him like that.

"Kyle, it's okay, really," Kenny was surprised that his voice stayed level, "you have to go to Cartman, plus Butters was years ago, I'm over him now, and yes – his death is sad to me, but I can cope with it. I promise," there he went with the lying again - he wanted so much to tell Kyle that he didn't want to be alone tonight, or even for the remainder of today. He wanted to say how much he regretted not being able to say sorry to Butters for breaking his heart, but all he did was smile and shut the door with a sinking feeling in his heart.

* * *

><p>Kenny doesn't cry – it isn't that he won't let himself, it's the fact that he just doesn't. He hadn't in a long time, not since he had last seen his parents and said goodbye to his little sister, and that was over six years ago. Instead, Kenny gets his feelings out in other ways. He breaks things, smashes things, smokes, drinks, gets high, but he doesn't cry.<p>

Never.

However, he still found himself on the floor among the shards of glass from the mirror he had just smashed, with a stray tear running down his face. He wiped it away violently, subsequently scratching his face with a sliver of glass stuck to his finger, he barely noticed, only realising when he felt warmth creep down his face.

Taking a deep breath, he pressed himself against a wall, trying to clear his thoughts and think rationally. All he could think about was that he was an absolute fuck for leaving Butters, especially in the way that he did, without a proper goodbye, just _"I don't want to be with you Butters."_

Even the way he said it was disgusting, "fuck, Kenny you fucking bastard," Kenny cursed at himself aloud. He missed Butters, and ever since he left he had felt a tremendous guilt, the face of the disappointed and broken Butters haunted his dreams for many months after he had broken it off with Butters.

"Fuck this," Kenny slammed his fist into the wall, causing his arm to scream pain, but he ignored it and stood up, glancing at the window in his bedroom – visible through the open door to the lounge room – and noted that he must have sat on the ground for a long time, as the moon was almost in the middle of the sky. He headed towards the door, but all of a sudden, noises started creeping up the stairs outside of his apartment, and he stopped in his tracks. Kenny was no stranger to foreign noises, but the reason he stopped was because the steps the other person took were familiar, and there was a less familiar set of footsteps, but they weren't as foreign as it should be.

Kenny had no time to process who may have been making the noises because all of a sudden they stopped at the front of his door and started banging on it, "Kenny! It's Kyle, open the door please."

Kenny inwardly swore, and tiptoed to the window in his bedroom, planning to jump out, even though he lived on the second floor.

"KENNY, I know you're in there!" Kyle shouted and smashed the door harder with his fists,

Kenny breathed silently, opening the window and glad that Kyle hadn't tried the handle because Kenny hadn't been bothered to lock the door after Kyle left. He peeked over the windowsill and he didn't think it would be too far to fall, so he eased his way into the windowsill.

"K_eee_ny," Cartman's whiny voice made it through the door and Kenny silently groaned, out of all people, Kyle had to bring along Cartman. "Look, Kenny, I just wanted to see you, Kyle mentioned you and well, I probed, and you know what Kyle is like." Cartman paused for a second and Kenny would have sworn that he was giggling, but he knew better – Cartman didn't giggle, but he didn't cry, so he guessed many unusual things were happening this night – "But that isn't the point, Kyle was worried sick, he didn't want to leave you after he told you about Butters, we all knew what he meant to you."

Kenny could barely believe his ears, Cartman being heartfelt, even giggling at one point. Either the world was ending or he was high. Kenny jumped off the windowsill and landed with a loud thump on top of a dumpster, only this dumpster was full of green waste, as in branches of trees and grass.

_Well, I must say this is handy to have just below my room,_ Kenny thought, brushing himself down and simultaneously looking up at his apartment, noticing his light was on, that must mean Kyle finally decided to try the handle. _What a dipshit, always try the handle first._

Kenny took one last look back, hoping they wouldn't find his weed stash, and walked away, not really knowing where he was going, but he didn't care much either, Butters' face was still haunting his vision.


	2. Stanley Marsh

_[STAN_]

Stan was driving somewhere, he didn't know where, he was just driving, you know – because he could. He did many things these days, just because he could. It seemed to make people believe that he recovered, that he was better, but the truth was – his episodes never stopped, they still happened, they were just significantly shorter than before, and he usually recalled the majority of what happened, usually.

Not even the doctors knew that he wasn't fixed; they all thought he was fine. But Stan couldn't tell them that there were problems, they would take him back to the lab, test him over and over again, they would be there constantly watching him, testing him, knowing everything about him. Nothing was private in that old white place. He guessed that the white was meant to make it seem tranquil, but it didn't, white made it seem idiosyncratic, sometimes even terrifying. Stan wouldn't let them know that though.

Stan knew that the time in the lab had damaged him more than the fourteen years he had spent in the real world that had supposedly made him 'crazy.' Nevertheless, he couldn't say this to anyone for fear of reprimand. He did think about telling Kyle, after all they were super best friends, and despite everything – Kyle was still there for him, no matter the extra time he had been spending with Cartman recently, and the extra time he had been spending, well, not with Stan – but at the end of the day he knew that Kyle would assume that it was Stan going around the bend again, he would tell and Stan would be locked up again, he couldn't tell the doctors because he would be trapped, and his parents were a definite no go – they were barely over the fact that he was 'healed' now, he couldn't ruin their bubble.

Stan was so caught up in his thoughts that he had stopped registering where he was going, he hasn't even paid attention to the road, so when the headlights illuminated a figure on the road, he swerved and braked immediately. When the car came to a standstill, he realised he wasn't hurt, and neither was the car. But then he remembered the figure on the road, it had seemed startlingly familiar for a second but the second was gone when he panicked, so Stan just assumed it must have been a deer, but even then he had to check to see if he had hurt it.

"Oh god," Stan moaned aloud as he stood outside, hoping he hadn't run over anything, he couldn't have hurt anything, could he?

He walked over to where the figure had been, and didn't notice anything, but a quick surveying of the scene led Stan to notice a silhouette closer to the opposite side of the road, and he ran over to see if the figure needed help, or if it was just an excess of dirt.

"Fuck," Stan cursed as he saw blood dripping from the figures face, "wait a second…" Stan spoke aloud when he was nervous, and almost all the time when he wasn't around the watching eyes of doctors or parents or even friends sometimes, it depended on what his paranoia told him.

"_Kenny?_ No way, fuck man, this can't be Kenny." Stand knew, despite his discouraging words, that it was highly likely that the figure was Kenny, shaggy blond hair, same orange parka but with the hood down – but that could just be because he was on the ground, the only difference was that he had a pair of black tracksuit pants now. His face was far less hollow than the last time Stan had seen him, and he couldn't help but smile, "you got off the drugs man, I'm so proud. Well most of them, it seems." Stan noted that there was still a kind of emptiness to Kenny's face, and his cheekbones were far too prominent for anyone who wasn't doing some kind of narcotic.

"Wait what the fuck am I on about, I ran over Kenny! Fuck, what is with me tonight. Shit," Stan sat beside Kenny, his head buried in his hands, "I don't even know what to think now. I'm seeing Kenny after like five fucking years, I missed him like hell, but I shouldn't because he fucked me over. I can never forgive him for that, but I didn't want to run him over, holy shit what if I killed him?" Stan's thoughts wouldn't stop racing, but he forced his mouth closed, and took several deep breaths, trying to calm the fuck down.

Stan felt a hand on his shoulder and he screamed aloud and jumped up.

"Shit dude, it's just me." Kenny put his hands up, surrendering.

"But I thought I ran you over?" Stan's sentence was both a question and a statement.

"Of course not, I'm still breathing aren't I?"

"But then what's that?" Stan reached over and wiped along the bleeding cut on Kenny's face, in what would be in any other circumstance, an intimate move.

"That shit is still bleeding?" Kenny spoke his thoughts aloud, taking a page from Stan's book. "It's nothing, just a scrape."

"It looks a bit deeper than just a scrape dude; I mean it's still fucking bleeding." Stan's statement wasn't false either; the blood started dripping from the wound the second Stan had wiped away the previous blood. "Doesn't it hurt a little?"

Kenny shrugged, "Shit's been deeper, bled more and been more painful, I hardly think I'm in a position to complain." It was true, Stan thought back to when he was younger, Kenny never complained, well not about his life or his current predicaments, the only thing Stan remembered Kenny complaining about was the fact he could never stay dead, it was the thing he had wanted the most but it would never happen, he didn't even think it could ever happen.

Stan gulped, really considering his next words before he spoke. "Kenny, where are you going to go now?"

Stan could see the confused look on Kenny's face even with the dim lighting, he saw Kenny shrug too, "To be honest I'm not really sure, I don't really want to go home now, and I don't really know where I'm headed now."

Kenny didn't sound needy, well not to Stan. It didn't seem as though the reply was meant as a 'Stan I have nowhere to go, let me come to your house,' but Stan wasn't sure, Stan was never sure. "Fucking paranoia," He swore under his breath.

"Huh?" Kenny looked at Stan as though he wasn't sure exactly what to say, but Stan knew Kenny had heard.

_Great, now he thinks I'm crazy, least he isn't wrong_, Stan thought to himself, "Nothing Kenny, I just thought, do you want to come to my place? You don't have to stay if you don't want, but we should get your cheek patched up so it at least stops bleeding." Stan let out a breath he didn't even realise he was holding, he shouldn't hate Kenny, Kenny had actually done quite a lot of good when he had fucked Stan over, but there was no way he would let Kenny in again, he just wouldn't.

"Is that really okay with you?" Kenny seemed hesitant, so Stan decided that being truthful about why he was doing this wouldn't damage him too much if others found out, so he explained.

"It's fine. Look, I should hate you, and I did, for quite a while – what you did, telling Kyle that, was definitely not called for, but I've come to realise that it was actually what was best, I would have had to let him know eventually and you made a hard job much easier. I've wanted to find you for a few years now Kenny, but you weren't at your parents anymore and I had my own shit to deal with."

Kenny just nodded at Stan, taking it what he had just said, realising that perhaps the group he thought must have hated him so much, might just still have a small place in their heart for him.

"Come on Kenny," Stan yelled over to the blonde who was still sitting on the floor. Stan did a quick once-over of the car, making sure that there was not any damage that would hinder their drive back home, his results came back satisfactorily and he tested the doors to see if they opened properly, and breathed a sigh of relief when they didn't even squeak. "Luckily the car isn't damaged." Stan ushered Kenny over with his hands he groaned at the sight of skid marks on the road, "well, the tyres are, but they shouldn't pop." Well, that's what Stan hoped as he entered the driver's door.

The majority of the car ride was quiet – the part that involved speaking involved Stan informing Kenny that he still lived with his parents and a grunt from Kenny as a reply – but it wasn't awkward which was quite astounding to Stan, he hadn't spoken to Kenny in years, there was so much they didn't know about each other, but the silence between them was almost peaceful, as though he could fall asleep, but Stan told himself he would focus on the road as he was driving, not on his thoughts, he did not need another accident, especially with a passenger in the car.

It wasn't a long drive, well it shouldn't have been, but Stan was preoccupied and took a few wrong turns, so the drive took all of fifteen minutes longer. When they arrived, Stan glanced at Kenny, making sure that he wasn't debating running away as soon as the car stopped, it didn't seem as though he was – Kenny's face was filled with a kind of wonder, but comfort, probably because the house was still the same one Kenny had been to countless amounts of times, even though it was years ago.

Stan also noted that the cut was still bleeding, and hoped Kenny didn't pass out from loss of blood as he patched him up, or even after it. In fact Stan kind of wanted Kenny to stay the night, but even though there was no awkward wall between them, he thought that it would be a bit too forward to invite him over for the night. "Come on Kenny," Stan ushered the blonde out of the car and up to the door.

It was pitch black when they stepped inside, and Stan heard the earth shattering snoring of his father in his bedroom. This most likely meant that both parents were asleep; as his mother didn't allow his father's head touch the pillow before she was asleep, all due to his snoring. Stan checked behind him, making sure Kenny was still following him, and noticed that the blonde was just staring at everything, taking it all in. Stan wished he could read Kenny's mind, just to have a taste of what he was thinking, did he really want to be here?

Stan balled his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms, a self-taught coping mechanism he had discovered, it helped control his paranoia, and his thoughts when they became too erratic, too out of control, and most importantly, it helped him stay in touch with the world when he felt an episode coming on.

It was a weird feeling for Stan, when he felt an episode coming on. As though he was disappearing, it was as if a smokescreen was going across his vision, as though he was separating from something, and all he wanted to do was sleep. It was as though he was aware, and he wanted to remain aware, but the smoke was hypnotizing almost, it reminded Stan of some kind of sleeping gas. He never remembered the actual episodes themselves though. He was sure that he must know what was going on, but after the smokescreen goes, and he wakes up – he remembers nothing, maybe flashes, the feeling of being somewhere, but not having the actual memory had become a constant feeling in Stan's life – but not even the medicine could help him recall the lost memories.

"Stan are you okay?" Kenny's worried face popped up into Stan's line of vision.

"Huh? Oh Kenny, I'm fine, just zoned out for a second," Stan scratched the back of his head and laughed, whilst Kenny just furrowed his eyes, suspecting something else. However, he realised that he wouldn't get it out of Stan at the present, so he just waited for Stan to lead the way.

"Just sit there Kenny," Stan flicked the light on and pointed to the rim of the bath, which Kenny promptly began to sit on, fighting the urge to wipe his cheek, knowing it would just stimulate the bleeding.

Stan rummaged through the medicine cabinet looking for antiseptic wipes and a gauze bandage, thinking that the cut would have to be large to be bleeding so much. "This might sting a bit."

Kenny just shrugged, "I doubt it, my pain threshold… Well, it's quite high."

Stan raised an eyebrow, but proceeded to wipe Kenny's face – firstly with a wet towel, and then over the cut with the antiseptic wipe. "It looks… smaller than what I had imagined," Stan squinted at Kenny's cheek, his observation was true – the cut was maybe three centimetres long, but it was deep, and the water Stan had just put on Kenny's face was promoting the bleeding. "I'm going to put this on anyway," Stan mostly said to himself, but he assumed that Kenny must have benefitted from it in some way.

When he was done, Kenny looked like he had been patched up by a five year old, Band-Aids attached to all four corners of the wound dressing, and just to be safe Stan had placed another gauze over the first because he feared that the cut would bleed through the first one.

Stan checked his watch, it was almost quarter past two in the morning, "Hey Kenny – would you like to stay the night?" it was automatic, and Stan inwardly cursed again, hoping Kenny didn't think of him as a creep or anything.

"No, I wouldn't want to impose," Kenny turned away from the mirror he was glancing at himself in and shook his hands, backing up his rejection. "It wouldn't be imposing, I don't really feel right with letting you go home at quarter past two in the morning, and just stay until the sun comes up? Then I'll take you home?" Stan's kindness was showing – part of him wanted to attack Kenny, but the majority of him saw a small child – an undeserving victim of substance and child abuse.

"Okay then," Kenny's voice was hesitant, but Stan could have sworn that he saw a glint of appreciation and perhaps even excitement in Kenny's eyes as he turned to take one last look in the mirror.

"The only thing is – you'll have to share a bed with me – only I have a double bed. I think my parents thought that I should have a proper bed in case I have any _sleepovers_ with anyone, if you get what I mean." They both laughed lightly at the end of Stan's sentence, and as they climbed the stairs, Stan was filled with mixed feelings. He wanted to comfort Kenny and make him laugh, but the other part of him was doing flips that Kenny was in his unfortunate situation, he deserved it, especially after what he had done to Stan, didn't he?

Stan's thoughts wouldn't cease that night, the monstrous snoring of his father and his erratic thoughts kept him up for the majority of the night – it was though as two sides of his brain were at war, one for Kenny and one against. Stan knew that neither would win against each other, so he tried to make a compromise, but it still wouldn't quieten the warring sides of his brain, eventually it got to a point where he would try to meditate just to sleep, but it never worked. Even focussing on the even breathing of the boy next to him would not calm him down, instead it would cause a warmth to pulsate through his body - which Stan subsequently ignored by glaring at the ceiling - and by the time dawn came and Kenny woke up to be taken home, he hadn't slept a wink.


	3. Kyle Broflovski

_[Kyle]_

After what felt like an age of banging on the door, Cartman had simply tried the door handle and to Kyle's surprise – and slight annoyance – it opened, leading Cartman to enter a speech boasting about himself. Kyle had tuned it out and searched through Kenny's apartment, which didn't take long seeing how the kitchen and lounge were one room together and the only other room was the bedroom and the bathroom. The only thing of interest that Kyle had found was the broken mirror in the lounge, with a sliver of glass and blood on the floor.

"Shit man, Kyle!" Cartman yelled out from the bedroom.

Kyle came running, thinking Cartman had found something of utmost importance, so he was thoroughly disappointed when all he saw was a drawer full of weed. "Seriously dude, what did you expect? It's Kenny," Kyle hoped his words didn't come across as nasty, because they weren't; it was just the Kenny he knew.

"Yeah, but this is good shit, top quality," Cartman was wide eyed as he picked up a bud and examined it, sniffing subtly so Kyle wouldn't notice, "it's expensive."

"That is not why were are here Cartman," Kyle walked off, but at the same time he did wonder how Kenny had the money for all the things he had – not the materialistic things like the couch or the bed, but the alcohol and the weed, and he was sure he had seen Kenny stash a bag of coke in his pocket when he had come over as a surprise once.

It did not match with the Kenny he saw though, it was blatant that Kenny was still on drugs, less than what he used to be – but his gaunt face and thin frame proved that he had not completely reformed, but how he afforded it, Kyle could not come to a conclusion. He pushed the thought from his brain, not liking the unpleasant ideas of Kenny's money making.

It took few more minutes of searching until Kyle came to another realisation, "Cartman, he jumped out of the window, there is blood here," and there was, there was a trail of reddish dots that led to the window, Kyle felt stupid for not noticing until now. "He was here when we were knocking, oh god. We should have tried the handle first." Kyle started breathing heavily, the guilt of leaving Kenny, the broken glass, the blood and even the weed had gotten to him.

Cartman sensed Kyle's distress and jumped off the bed, walking over to the hyperventilating teenager, "well, I do have the best ideas, plus this is a good sign, he was sober enough to get out of the window, we would know he was fucked if he tried to run away from us through the front door."

Kyle knew Cartman was right, but he couldn't shake the guilt. The blood terrified him and yet he felt anger pulsate through his veins, he knew Kenny would not have tried suicide, he would get high first, but if Kenny was high then maybe he didn't know he was cut, and it was apparent that Kenny was bleeding quite a lot and if he was bleeding a lot and was high on the streets, then it would be hard for him to come back. He might not even make it back.

Kyle could feel his chest expanding and constricting quickly, his sharp intakes of breath were insufficient for his body and he felt his world begin spinning.

"Kyle, take a breath." The familiar voice of Cartman broke into Kyle's disorienting haze of panic, the hand that was placed on his shoulder grounded him, and Kyle took a deep breath, quelling his shaking.

Kyle turned to look up at Cartman, who over the years had grown into his weight and now towered over the majority of the boys their age in South Park, except for Token – but he was a basketball player now, Kyle thought it would be unusual if Cartman was taller than him.

"That is easy for you to say. You did not break the news to Kenny; you did not know how deep his feelings for Butters went. I was finally getting closer to him Eric." Kyle rested his head on the taller boy, who brought his other arm around and embraced Kyle, knowing how emotional he could get.

"Kyle, what Kenny does is his own business, not ours. Even if it was you who gave him the information, you don't control him!" Cartman paused for a moment, and Kyle knew something was coming. "Plus, he decided to leave Butters; he decided to leave all of us, fuck us over – destroy some people's lives, look what Butters did, look at what happened to Stan. He doesn't deserve any of this, not you, not me; the only thing he deserves is a bullet through the head."

Kyle felt the anger that was previously pulsating through him had taken over; he forcefully pushed away from Cartman and clenched his fists, trying to restrain his frustration. "If Kenny does not deserve us, if all he deserves is a bullet through the head," Kyle could feel his voice dripping venom, "Then tell me Cartman, what it is that you deserve?" Kyle caught Cartman's eye, conveying the animosity he felt. "You have fucked us all over more times than I care to count; you are an arrogant narcissistic pompous and just downright egotistical asshole who does not care about anyone except himself. You are the one who deserved a bullet through the head Cartman. Besides, what did he ever do to you? You were the only one he _didn't_ fuck overm if anything it should be _you_ who is worried, _you _who came to talk to him.'"

"What did he do to me?" Cartman pondered, his voice coated with satire, "If only you fucking knew Broflovski," he added under his breath.

Kyle took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment - not hearing what Cartman had added to his former sentence - and started directing his anger somewhere else like he had been taught many years ago. When he opened his eyes, he saw Cartman standing there, with an expectant look aimed at Kyle – as though he knew this was just an outburst, as though he just let Kyle's words bounce of him.

Kyle wanted to get across to Cartman, he wanted Cartman to realise that Kyle meant what he said, that everything he just said was what he really thought – both him and Cartman knew it would change in a couple of minutes, maybe an hour at most, but Kyle was really worked up. "I meant it Cartman, this is not one of my 'outbursts,' it is what I really feel, and you should just leave. This is Kenny's house, and if you feel like that towards him, you should just leave."

Kyle knew that Cartman would translate his words as: "I am having an outburst, it will last longer than usual, it is best that you leave now."

"Why does everyone love that ass-fucking prick?" Cartman spat as he left, and Kyle wanted to punch him.

Kyle almost regretted letting Cartman leave, he almost ran after him, but thought better of it. What Cartman had said about Kenny, even if it was meant as a joke – which Kyle could tell that it was not – it was something that should never be said. Despite everything Kenny had done, even though the majority of it had been directed at Stan and Butters, Cartman and he had received a fair bit of adversity from Kenny's actions.

For one, Kyle and Stan's relationship had been strained to almost breaking point, Kyle hadn't mentioned this to Kenny due to the fact he could see that the older blonde was already filled with guilt, or some equally encompassing emotion.

Kenny had revealed to Kyle that Stan still nursed a childhood crush on Kyle, the night before he left. Kyle did not know how Stan found out before he reached the ravens' house, but when Kyle arrived, Stan was waiting for him. No words were exchanged between the two for quite a long time, until Kyle broke the silence, "why me?" he whispered into the night – not with disgust, more like pure curiosity, and he was surprised when Stan stiffened and looked up at him.

A sarcastic, dry laugh escaped the boys' lips before he spoke, "Kyle, it is probably best that we don't hang out, not for a while anyway," Stan was withdrawn, appearing almost ashamed as he stood up and entered his own door, slamming it and leaving Kyle in a puddle of melted snow.

Kyle wanted to be friends; he tried for many months to show Stan that he didn't care whether Stan liked him or not, but it was all to no avail. Stan was too robotic, almost as though he was on autopilot and Kyle knew, through experience, that he should not try to win against that, he had to wait until Stan came to him, when he was ready.

Sure enough that day happened, Stan was almost smashing down Kyle's door, and when he came downstairs to open it, Stan burst in and went straight to Kyle's room. Kyle had no choice but to follow, and Stan was in his room, shaking – badly. Stan told Kyle everything that night, how his parents had been over protective, how he could not deal with it and he had to leave, how he regretted not succumbing to Kyle's attempts at amending their friendship, how he was an idiot and he hoped Kyle would forgive him. Kyle of course forgave him, he had his best friend back and he could not care about anything else, other than the fact that Stan seemed extremely unstable, but nothing he tried stopped the raven haired boy from leaving.

That was the most straining thin Kenny had done to Kyle, which was probably why Kyle could forgive the blonde so easily. He knew that Stan would most likely accept Kenny back as readily as Kyle had accepted Stan back all those years ago, but Kenny didn't believe, Kenny was sure Stan would damn him straight to hell – and Kyle could not convince him otherwise, no matter how many times he had attempted to say it.

Despite the anguish Stan had gone through with his parents and his amnesia, Kyle could not help a part of him being glad that Stan had all of those problems, because without them he knew that Stan would have never turned up at his door, never had forgiven him and their friendship would never be amended.

Kyle could not help but smile at the memory, but his action brought him to the present and his smile ceased, and was replaced with a grimace. He was in Kenny's house, with no way to get home because he was stupid enough to accept Cartman's invitation to drive him here, and then send him off all thanks to his anger.

He could walk, but it would take hours, he had no money for a cab, and his cell was just about to run out of battery. Kyle knew he should leave, staying here felt wrong, illegal almost, even though he knew Kenny would never report him, not that the cops would listen to him as a result of his previous record. He was just about to leave; he had made the decision to go, even if it meant a long walk home – personal time was never frowned upon.

There was a huge but though – the weed, he had almost forgotten about it until he turned to leave and saw the drawer. Kyle walked over to it and breathed the scent in. it was heavenly, and he felt intoxicated by it already – so when he picked some up and went through all of Kenny's other drawers looking for some rolling paper and a lighter – which he knew would have to be there, somewhere – he didn't have a second thought, he didn't feel wrong being in Kenny's house, he didn't feel uncomfortable when he lit the joint or when he was stoned in someone else's house with the door ajar.

The only thing that startled him and made him aware of his circumstances was the screech of car wheels from being accelerated too fast and too suddenly, but he disregarded that, focussing instead on fixing himself another joint and dissipating his anger.

It came to a point where all he could think about was food, anything to snack on. Kyle stood up, giving himself a few seconds to find his balance and walked to the kitchen, and almost ripped open the fridge door in search of something to quell the monster in his stomach.

"Beer, beer and some more beer," Kyle slurred, pushing all the alcohol aside as he searched, "Kenny you have to have something to eat, I mean – this shit. It's powerful."

Despite Kyle's constant reassurance that there must be food somewhere in the house, his search came to no avail. He had ripped apart Kenny's closet, gone through all the cupboards and the drawers, and the closest thing he found to food was a packet of instant coffee. Kyle had been so sure Kenny was better off, but he doubted him assumption now, bit was too stoned to think.

He jumped on the couch and looked at the TV – exhausted from all of his searching – seemingly engrossed in the blank screen until he fell asleep, mouth wide open and drool dripping onto Kenny's couch cushions.


End file.
